


Wingless Bird

by orphan_account



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Love Confessions, M/M, Motti is a piece of shit, Orgasm Delay, Tarkin teaches a lesson, Too bad he didn't hear it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 21:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When Krennic is invited to the Executrix bridge, his Admiral status makes him clash with Admiral Motti, who, along with Krennic, cause too much trouble for the Grand Moff's liking. Tarkin knows all too well that now is the time for a lesson in self-control.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For White_Rainbow for whom I wrote this instead of sleeping - my mind stagnates, and a task might help it properly awake for the first time in a while.

It was tiring working with Conan Motti.

Krennic positively resounded with anger with Motti's insolent speech and disdain for the Director. On the Executrix, Krennic's rank basically translated into that of an Admiral, making him equals with Motti. But even so, because of his science backgrounds, Motti took it upon himself for making everything hell for the Director. Or the Admiral, as that was his rank while he stood on the Bridge.

"Admiral Motti," Krennic ground out, almost desperately angry. "Could you please allow me to finish planning this assault on Talus?"

"Please do finish planning, Director. Although I believe there are more important plans for you to finish," Motti sneered. "I do so wonder how progress is going with your little pet project."

"Admiral," Krennic corrected through clenched teeth. He felt his patience slipping out of his control, and he was distantly aware of Governor Tarkin standing in the shadows of the Bridge, leaving the two admirals to squabble. Krennic snuck a glance over at Tarkin, who was staring coolly back at him, obviously calculating his own plans for the assault, which, as Krennic admitted with a sigh, was probably going to be a better plan that whatever he or Motti could conjure up.

"My apologies. I didn't know you cared so much for military decorum since you have such an obvious disregard for it."

Krennic wanted to hit him, but Tarkin's controlling gaze kept him in control. Krennic allowed himself to take deep breaths disguised as shallow ones as he looked over the map of Talus once again, thinking of the best way to make a reply.

"Callow," Krennic spoke, not even bothering to glance at Motti's vicinity. Krennic turned to address another officer, but in truth, he was finding an excuse to scan Tarkin's face for approval. He found it in the depths of the many shades of blue. His words had the desired effect; Motti was positively steaming with fury and his face turned fifty shades of red, obviously embarrassed by his defeat at the single word.

The Bridge had gone a deathly silent, and officers hurried to do their work, disguising their watchful gazes as moving to deliver papers and data to officers across the room. Krennic felt pleased with his move, even though he didn't let it show. But Krennic, though he was pleased, felt as if something was wrong. That move, that word...it was so Tarkin. It wasn't the blustering bluntness of Krennic. And the Director...Admiral had a feeling Motti figured that out by the way his shallow breathing stabilized and the laughable red on his cheeks disappeared.

"Is that what you called Galen Erso when he left you?" Motti shot, playing his final card. The air in the Bridge visibly thinned as Krennic's breath rushed out of him in disbelief. He noticed, out of the corners of his bright blue eyes, that a few officers froze where they stood, turning to pay full attention to what happened here, not even bothering to hide their watching the drama any longer. They knew how sensitive a topic it was for the Director...Admiral and it was almost an unfair card to play. The only man in the room who didn't feel the rush whether it be anger or anticipation was the Grand Moff, who positively radiated waves of disapproval.

The Grand Moff opened his mouth to speak, but he was promptly cut off by Krennic throwing a punch at Motti. The tension snapped and Motti responded with shoving Krennic half way across the Bridge, and into some sensitive glass. It was a wonder that the glass didn't shatter. Krennic punched back and the two men wrestled across the Bridge, grunting and cursing at each other.

"Enough!" Tarkin bellowed. Actually, it was more of a loud whisper, but Tarkin's speech always resounded like a thunderclap when in reality, you might have to strain to hear him. The Grand Moff stepped into the light for the first time since the two Admirals started planning, and he looked slightly annoyed. Which translated into completely, and utterly livid. His face was loud in the room, and the two men broke away immediately. Shame curdled in Krennic's stomach when he saw the disapproval in Tarkin's eyes, but he didn't dare so much as twitch.

While everyone stood there, frozen Krennic still resolved that his move was a very Krennic thing to do and perhaps it was a remembrance of his true nature. He just wasn't Tarkin, and he would never be. But perhaps, that's what attracted the two to each other. Of course, in magnets, opposite poles attracted and like poles repelled.

Tarkin and Krennic most definitely did not repel.

"Admiral Motti, I most certainly did not expect this childish behavior from you," Tarkin hissed, watching as Motti grew pale with fear and shame. Tarkin turned to look at Krennic. "And you, Admiral Krennic, I want to have a word with you. Follow me."

Krennic, feeling equally shamed, if not more shamed than Motti, who's face was the same color as Krennic's uniform, followed Tarkin out with a stumbling pace. He dared not speed up - he must stay behind Tarkin, but he dared not slow down - he mustn't keep Tarkin waiting.

The Executrix was a lovely ship, and Krennic never bothered to notice it until now, glumly staring at the walls, knowing about the punishment to come. Krennic fought to stifle a snort. Glum. He wasn't glum or upset or regretful. He was beyond excited, and the way his trousers suddenly felt a few sizes too small confirmed as much. He fought to keep the grim look, though. He didn't want any passing officers getting any ideas.

No one knew about how he submitted to Tarkin, and the number of people who knew would stay zero.

As soon as the two finished weaving through the maze that was the Executrix, Tarkin dropped his indifferent, formal tone, and he let himself rage, plain green uniform quaking with him.

"Crude," he snarled, furious. "I know the remark about Galen was unfairly provoking, but you need to learn to control yourself. And if you are to lose a temper, pray do it with a lower ranked officer."

"Conan deserved it," Krennic retaliated, but he almost immediately regretted his words. What a child he must sound like, pointing fingers and passing blame. Tarkin sighed, but he continued on in less of a rage.

"Yes, perhaps he did, but he is also the main Admiral of this ship, and I'd like to have my men cooperate and work united under Admiral Motti's instruction, whether or not he 'started a fight'. Do you understand?"

Krennic nodded, almost frozen, but it wasn't enough. Tarkin drew back, and slapped him, hard. Krennic stumbled to the ground with a grunt of pain, but he only felt himself get more excited at the rough treatment. This was one of the times he was permitted to see Tarkin as the angry, desiring, emotional man. It was, perhaps, a gift. He might be the only one in the Empire who got to see this side of Tarkin. Or perhaps he was overthinking his worth in the Grand Moff's mind.

"Yes, sir," Krennic mumbled as he got onto his knees, knowing what Tarkin wanted. A vocal and physical representation of Tarkin's power over him. And if that's what Tarkin wanted, Krennic was willing to give it, over and over again.

He watched, curious, as Tarkin beckoned him to stand up. Krennic did so, his cape swinging like a ridiculous windmill, and what happened next made Krennic's blood burn with arousal. He watched as Tarkin got to his knees, pulling Krennic's black dress pants down, revealing a cock that was all too hard for what was going to be a punishment.

"My, my, we are eager."

Krennic moaned his assent, but the noise was cut off when Tarkin lowered his mouth onto Krennic's length. The Director, and only the Director, now that he was off the Bridge, let out a hearty groan and he used every last bit of control he had left not to grab Tarkin's hair or rut into Tarkin's mouth. He tried his very best to stand, still as a statue, eyes half closed and wondering how on Force this was a punishment.

Minutes drew by, and the sound of Tarkin's tongue slurping over his dick was too much and Krennic felt as if he was almost spent. As he felt his balls tighten, Tarkin pulled off and stood up.

"Wha-" was all Krennic could manage besides a throaty moan of pain and pleasure both. He was on the verge, dancing on the brink of orgasm, and Tarkin just stood up, a rare smile on his face. Tarkin undressed Krennic fully at that, his fingertips ghosting over Krennic's aching cock.

"Parade rest, my dear," Tarkin murmured, and Krennic hurried to stand in parade rest. He knew that position all too well from the Futures Program days. Tarkin paced to the other end of the room, and Krennic kept his gaze snapped to the door. When the Governor returned, the smile had dropped and every inch of him dripped off the same armored, indifferent man he was every day.

Krennic looked at him, his bright blue eyes pleading for release, and Tarkin caught the look.

"You need a lesson on self-control, dearest Krennic," Tarkin informed him. Krennic knew he looked positively appalled at that, and Tarkin's lips arched the tiniest bit into a parody of a smile. He reached forwards, and his hand gave one, slow stroke that ensured he was as hard as he could get. "Remember, Krennic. Parade rest."

With that, the Grand Moff left the quarters.

Krennic trembled and shook with the effort not to break his stance and start angrily jacking off. But this was a lesson, and the few times Tarkin gave them out, there was a reward for his obedience.

So Krennic waited two hours, not at all bored because of the ache and want in his cock, and he felt himself increasingly wanting to quickly end this torture. He knew there would be no further punishment if he did so, but the tantalizing offer of a reward was too great, and Krennic squeezed his eyes shut.

When Tarkin reentered the room, he saw the pleading look and Krennic's face, and that, bound with no evidence of ejaculation and the still hard length on Krennic bouncing around when he shifted, brought another smile to Tarkin's face. Krennic basked in its rare warmth, knowing it would soon disappear. He felt humiliated and cheap, but he would do anything, anything at all for Wilhuff Tarkin.

"On the bed, my dear," Tarkin whispered, and Krennic hurried to obey. He had softened somewhat during his torturous two hours standing in parade rest, but now, he felt the blood rushing back into his extremities, overly excited about what was to happen. Tarkin didn't fuck him often, and whenever Krennic got a chance to experience it, he did so with utmost attention, enthusiasm, and lust.

He lies down, knowing how Tarkin wanted him, on his stomach with his legs spread, and waited until he heard a click and felt cold lube on his ass. He whimpered, almost weeping with delight when Tarkin inserted one long, thin finger.

"Remember, my dear," Tarkin said in a hushed tone. "You are not to come before I do."

Krennic nodded vigorously, well, as vigorously as he could while he lay practically face down, and moaned as Tarkin inserted a second finger. He fought his instinct to buck and rut, trying to take the digits deeper. Hours seemed to pass before Tarkin finally added the third finger, and he, with a satisfied grunt, judged Krennic ready to take him. When Tarkin pushed into him, Krennic actually did sob with relief, the pleasure rolling through his body.

"Thank you, oh thank you, thank you Wilhuff."

Tarkin didn't bother to correct the usage of his first name, too lost in pleasure himself to much care or summon the energy to correct it. He, ever so slowly, pulled out and pushed back in. Tarkin didn't make a single noise, but a sheen of sweat began to appear on his forehead. Krennic, however, was a writhing, moaning mess, covered head to toe in sweat.

He wanted to come.

But Tarkin's voice flitted through his mind, and he whimpered when he denied himself the release, waiting, waiting for Tarkin to come so he could follow suit. Sensing this, Tarkin hurried his pace to lessen the way Krennic squirmed under him and speed it up for himself. The Grand Moff came without a warning, and as soon as Krennic felt the warm liquid fill him, he came himself, gasping with relief as he was finally spent.

Krennic's tears had dried up, but they returned now, and Krennic fell into Tarkin's arms, sobbing and quaking. Tarkin knew little of what to do in the ways of comfort, but the way he allowed his armor to fall so he could pet Krennic's back and stroke him into a final calmness, was enough. The fact that Tarkin cared was all Krennic needed to calm down, finding solace in Tarkin's arms.

Krennic felt he was a bird who lost its wings and Tarkin...Tarkin became his wings. One wing cradled and caressed him, bring comfort and relief. Another struck him and taught him to be strong and control himself.

And before he lost the nerve, he asked what he had been wanting to ask for a long time.

"May...may I sleep here?"

Tarkin almost froze with surprise, but he nodded, the two men lie softly on the bed. Tarkin brought one protective arm over Krennic's waist, and his nose tussled Krennic's brown and gray hair while his mouth discreetly kissed Krennic's neck.

"I love you," Tarkin finally managed after ages of silence, but Krennic was already asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh, White, you ruined me! Definitely going to get back into the Galennic feels soon with Victim and Play by the Rules update. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
